


Jagged Edges

by Lynds



Series: Breaking the Cycle [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky goes with the flow, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, I'm not selling this am I?, Implied/Referenced Torture, Loki is in a romantic relationship with one Bucky and basically in a QPR with the other Bucky, Loki loves all Buckys, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Multiple Selves, Out of Character, Slice of Life, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, almost certainly, but in character for the series!, makes zero sense by itself, this is so self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-11-03 21:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20708870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynds/pseuds/Lynds
Summary: Bucky stayed in this universe to find his other self, the Bucky Barnes who was still trapped with Hydra. If he's got Loki by his side, all the better.





	1. Bucky

**Author's Note:**

> This is... so self indulgent I can't even. I've been meaning to write this since almost the moment I finished Broken Wheels, when I had an image in my head of recently freed Winter Soldier Bucky being comforted and cuddled by Loki, while Bucky from the Vicious Cycle universe looks on proudly.
> 
> So yeah... that's basically all this is. Recovery for everyone, and lots of looking out over New York City from Stark Tower while having deep and meaningful conversations. I hope you enjoy it!

Bucky stared around at the penthouse as the elevator closed behind him, drawing back down its shaft. The room was impersonal, minimalist and high tech, and empty of all the Avengers debris. Back in his own universe, Tony lived in the upstate mansion with the whole team. This Tony, this team, seemed to be a lot less tightly bound, sharp egos sidling around each other warily.

His own family had gone through the portal only a couple of days ago, and while Bucky was pretty sure that wouldn’t be the last he saw of them, he still had moments of wild confusion.

What the hell was he thinking? He’d jumped into a new universe, following a man he barely knew, but who, more than anyone else he’d ever met, seemed to match all his broken pieces. He loved the family, the team he’d left behind, but there he stood in the shadow of his past. Leaving had made a strange, selfish sort of sense.

He knew Loki didn’t believe him. He was very obviously waiting for Bucky to resent him. “I’m not going to,” Bucky had told him only that morning. “I’m not saying we’ll last forever - it’d be nice, sure.” He flashed him a cheeky half-smile. “But if we come to an end…” he shrugged. “Then we do. We move on. We see more of this world. We jump into another one. Let’s just take it as it comes, yeah?”

“And you think that will be enough for you?” Loki asked, walking towards him in that predator way he had, his voice low and rough and only just recovered. “You are satisfied with this… maybe of a life?”

Bucky turned and tugged him close by one hip. “I’m satisfied with what I have right now. Right here.” He kissed Loki, felt him soften under his hands. “More than satisfied.”

He didn’t have a grand plan. He didn’t trust them. He knew enough about this Loki - and the Loki back in his own world, cheerful, sweet Walker, that men like them had at least twelve different plans and eventualities spanning out from the present, a spider web of possibility waiting for one event or another to trip a particular wire. Bucky didn’t want to work like that. That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t have one or two general aims in mind.

Tony Stark trotted down the stairs from his private living area (Bucky assumed) towards the bar. “Hey there Cyborg,” he said breezily. Bucky smiled and wondered if this Tony used the same masks as his own Tony when he was afraid, or unsure. “Can I interest you in a drink? For science, of course - are drinks the same in your universe? Does whiskey exist there?” He shuddered. “God, I don’t want to live in a world without scotch.”

“I’ll pass, Tony,” he said. “I need to tell you something unpleasant, though.” He sighed and tugged his fingers through his hair. “I, uh… do you want someone with you? It’s really not…”

Tony frowned and turned to face him fully. “What is it?” he said, his voice falsely nonchalant. “What, you’ve broken that bed in the spare room? I’m not surprised, you know, God and super-soldier banging, must get pretty rough.”

“Nah, you over-engineer everything in any universe,” Bucky said. “No, this is… OK, I don’t know if this is the same in your universe, but my Tony reacted pretty badly to it when he found out - understandably - and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but there really was no time, OK? I wasn’t using you, I swear, I mean, first there was Thanos, and then Loki was so… nearly dead and I wasn’t thinking of anything else and then you were away and--”

“Just tell me,” Tony said, his voice suddenly lower. Bucky looked up to see Tony’s chin jutting forward, so brave, it made his heart ache. 

“In my universe, I was brainwashed by Hydra. They turned me into a weapon.” He held Tony’s eye. “Tony, I’m sorry, I was the one who… who killed your parents. I’m really…” he cleared his throat. “Yeah. I, uh. Sorry doesn’t cut it.”

Tony’s eyes seemed to have fogged over, his gaze turning slightly to the side, his fingers painfully tight on his drink. Bucky stood in silence, waiting. He would wait as long as Tony needed him, he wasn’t going to push him for a response, he wasn’t going to beg his forgiveness. Why the hell should Tony feel under pressure to give that? The Winter Soldier had taken Tony’s parents from him.

Tony cleared his throat suddenly and turned, taking a long drink from his glass. It trembled against the marble counter as he put it down, and he poured himself another. Bucky winced as he saw how full it was. “Do you remember it?” he asked, his voice thin.

“No,” said Bucky. “I… Walker cleared out the damage they’d done to my brain, but a lot of my memories were… no, I don’t remember much at all. I’m sorry.” He bit his lip.

Tony tipped the glass back, gulping the liquor down in one. Bucky wondered when he should ask JARVIS to call for Pepper or Rhodey. “I thought it was my dad’s fault,” Tony said, staring out over New York. “I thought he’d been drinking.” He snorted. “He had been drinking, I saw it. But he didn’t cause the crash. He didn’t kill my mom.”

“No,” Bucky agreed.

“Why are you here?”

Bucky hunched his shoulders. “Sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.”

“No, I mean, why did you stay here?” Tony asked. He poured himself another scotch. “Why did you stay? Your Tony… he’d… forgiven you?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “He… it’s a long story.”

“Why come here then?”

“I want to find the other me,” Bucky said. “If he exists in this universe, I’ll get him out of Hydra’s cryo.”

Tony nodded. Then he took the bottle and walked past Bucky towards the elevator. “I’ll get some algorithms set up. We’ll find him.”

“You… what?”

Tony shrugged, his shoulders slumped. “Faster you find him, the fewer people he kills, right?”

Bucky reached out for him, and Tony moved away, just slightly too slow to be a flinch. “I’m not your Tony,” he said, stepping into the elevator.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you,” Bucky said softly. Tony’s lips twitched, but his eyes stared forwards, hopeless, as the door closed.

Bucky stood for a long moment, his eyes shut tight as the sky darkened over the city. “JARVIS,” he said. “Could you please call Ms Potts? Tell her what I told Tony? And that he’s taken a bottle of scotch to the lab?”

“I’m afraid I have an override command against contacting Ms Potts or Mr Rhodes about his drinking unless Mister Stark is in actual need of medical attention from alcohol poisoning,” JARVIS said. “However, if you look behind the bar, you’ll find a phone to which I can send their numbers, in case you would like to contact them yourself, for completely unrelated reasons.”

Bucky smiled properly at that. “Thanks JARV,” he said, and steeled himself to call Pepper.


	2. Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's algorithm to find the Winter Soldier works...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the first chapter guys!! I really appreciate them, but I've had a crazy week and I haven't had a chance to reply to any of them yet - I absolutely will, and I love them so much!! This fic really will just be character driven, there's no plot whatsoever... I'm sorry to anyone who asked about what would happen to Odin or Jotunheim, this is very small-scale and quiet in comparison to the last two! I hope you still enjoy it though!

The Soldier sagged against the chair, his entire being occupied with the excruciating pain. He couldn’t remember why they had wiped him again. He remembered nothing. He only felt, and he wished he couldn’t. Every nerve was raw, his jaw ached from nearly biting through the thing they placed between his teeth. His muscles felt torn in two with exertion and his head, oh, his head…

He blinked, then closed his eyes and moaned in pain as light pierced through his skull, scouring him, boiling him from the inside out. They manhandled him roughly down from the chair and his head lolled to the side. He whimpered and tried to raise it, stop it from being jolted so much, swallowing down the bile that threatened with every lance of pain.

And then they let him fall, his knees hitting the ground. His body slumped sideways, hit the floor. He forced his eyes open again, and, blurred, he saw two shapes. A flash of metal and a spray of blood. A whirl of green and black. And one body after the other fell to the ground. The Soldier knew that sound well, the sounds of death, the fall of flesh, a human being no longer, just a collection of useless parts.

The death spread out from the two shapes in front of him, one going left, the other right, and death encircled him. There might have been screaming, but his mind was so raw, so excruciating, that he wasn’t sure it would have made any difference.

Then there was silence. The Soldier closed his eyes. He hoped the death would come to him, but if it wouldn’t, then he would take this short reprieve and get some rest. 

There was something cold against his cheek, something cold and supple and strong, and he wanted to lean into it for some reason. It comforted him, he thought. Though he wasn’t sure if he had ever known what comfort was. If it was even a real thing, or a concept his mind had created.

He was vaguely aware that they would probably wipe him again for creating.

“Barnes? Bucky? James?” a voice said, deep and cool, like water. The soldier liked it.

“Soldier,” said another, rough and wry. The Soldier looked up. “Yeah, I remember that. Don’t worry, man, you’ll unlearn it.”

The Soldier felt arms around his body and he tensed, knowing that the only place left for him was the ice. He wanted to stay awake, stay out as long as possible, gather more of the world before he knew nothing else, but his head hurt so, so much. He slumped, clawing onto consciousness. 

It never had worked.


	3. Loki

“You can’t keep me away from him!” Rogers yelled. Loki clenched and unclenched his fist, ready to leap to Bucky’s defence if Rogers so much as got a hair closer.

“Steve, you know I have to. He’s still the Winter Soldier, there’s layers of control over his mind that Loki _might_ be able to break with some long hard work, but he doesn’t know you. You’d only confuse him.”

“Oh, and seeing himself standing right there in front of him, that’s not confusing at all?”

Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Steve, you can’t just let it be?”

“Was your Steve ever any different?” Rogers retorted.

“Of course not,” Bucky grinned fondly, and Loki felt a stab of jealousy. He swallowed it down and glanced over at the other James Barnes lying in the bed, a pile of blankets that only moved with his breath.

“Look, I’ll level with you - I don’t think you’ll cope well with seeing him,” Bucky continued. “I remember being in his place, you know? I was confused and in pain and everyone was either a target or a tormenter, and my Steve didn’t cope with that too well either.”

Steve sighed. “I just… I just want to see him, Buck? Please? I thought he was dead.”

Bucky glanced over at Loki, who shrugged and crossed his arms. Bucky had warned him that this would be the most likely outcome anyway. Loki wasn’t sure why he was so protective so quickly. Perhaps it was because he looked like Bucky. 

Perhaps it was the way he’d clung to him, pressed his face against Loki’s chest as he lifted him in his arms. Loki was afraid that his heart might be forfeit to every Barnes in the multiverse if he wasn’t careful.

True to his word, Rogers didn’t even touch Barnes. He looked down at him with a broken expression, then up to Bucky. He smiled, and tears glistened at the corners of his eyes. “Is he safe now?” he asked softly.

Bucky nodded. “Tony’s been digging deep, finding Hydra’s tentacles all over SHIELD. They’re weeding them out quickly. I can’t say we’ve won, but we’re getting there.”

Rogers shook his head and stared down at Barnes. “Sometimes this world feels like we fought for nothing. Nazis, Hydra, poverty, measles, it’s all still here, you know? I thought, when I aimed that plane down at the ice, _at least I’m doing this for a reason. At least that’s the end of Hydra.”_

Bucky shrugged. “A lot has changed too. But yeah, I know what you mean.” He shook his head. “Fucking Nazis. You’d have thought we’d learned, huh?”

“Unlikely,” Loki muttered. Not quietly enough, though, not when surrounded by super-soldiers. Rogers straightened up and frowned at him, crossing his arms. Somehow it made him feel nervous - no, not nervous. Judged, and found lacking. Loki stuck his chin out. “You think your petty race has the monopoly on stupid, repetitive decisions?” He snorted. “Gods make the same mistakes within their own lifetimes. At least humans leave it a generation or so.”

To his surprise, Rogers’ lips twitched. It was a flicker of a smile; had Loki blinked, he’d have missed it, but it was there. Rogers turned away, looking back at Bucky. “I wish you’d called me. I could’ve helped.”

Bucky gave him a fond half-smile. “You wouldn’t’ve wanted to see the place, Punk. You’ve always been too damn soft-hearted.”

Rogers snorted. “Soft-hearted? Shut up! You were always the one trying to stop me fighting!”

Bucky’s smile became sad. “Trust me, Steve,” he said.

Rogers looked down, then back at Barnes, still asleep, just the slightest twitch of his fingers betraying the life in him. Rogers sighed. “Well, none of that matters now,” he said. “I’m just glad you got him back - and that you’re all OK as well.”

Loki looked up, surprised, but Rogers wasn’t even looking towards him. He patted Bucky on the shoulder, gave Loki an awkward nod, and then left.

Bucky walked over to Loki, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist and nudging his feet aside so he could lean against him, pressing him against the wall. “You alright?” he asked. He laid his head on Loki’s shoulder and sighed, his warm breath tickling Loki’s neck.

Loki smiled and tugged him closer, his fingers scratching Bucky’s back so he rumbled and squirmed. “Of course.”

“Don’t ‘of course’ me. I see you looking at Steve like he’s going to whisk me away. Ain’t gonna happen, Loki.”

“I do not,” he said firmly.

“Yeah, you do. It’s sad. I’m here, Loki, I’m with you. Stop borrowing trouble.” 

He kissed up Loki’s neck, his beard scratching against the sensitive skin around his jugular, and Loki tipped his head back, already falling. “I can’t help it,” he admitted, almost in a whisper, unwilling to let his vulnerability escape too far from him. “I know I’m... needy--”

“You’re not,” Bucky said. “You’ve been told you ask too much. Well, you don’t ask too much of me.”

“You don’t know how much I want,” Loki said, looking away and down, trying to stop his fingers from clenching into Bucky’s shirt, holding him still.

“No, I don’t. You’re not asking me for everything you want.” He put his finger under Loki’s chin and tugged him gently to pull him around, to hold his gaze. “Maybe one day you’ll be able to tell me everything you want, and then you’ll learn what I’m willing to give you.” He smiled, like he thought those two things would be the same.

“Satisfaction is not in my nature,” Loki said.

Bucky shrugged. “We’re long-lived beings, doll. We’ve got a long time to find things that’ll keep us both interested. But don’t act like you know what the answer’s gonna be when you want something, OK?”

Loki closed his eyes and pressed a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips, leaning their foreheads together. “I’ll try.”


	4. Bucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for a little while I'll be naming my Bucky just Bucky (everyone calls him that), but the new one, the Winter Soldier from the Avengers universe, doesn't think of himself as anything but Soldier. Of course, nobody wants to call him Soldier, that would be awful, so they follow Loki's lead and call him Barnes. I hope that doesn't cause too much confusion for anyone! This series is a bit of a nightmare for names lol!

Loki had to be in his Jotun form for his magic to work, if he didn’t want it to grate against his channels and come out in a trickle through a set of rusty pipes. Bucky hadn’t realised at first - Loki sat on the bed next to this universe’s Bucky (he was getting used to calling him Barnes, like Loki had taken to doing) and sweated over the careful work needed to break the kill switches in his head, while Bucky brought him painkillers and drinks.

It was only when he’d left the room for a meeting with Nick Fury to talk about the Hydra infiltration from his own universe, and came back to find a blue, frozen Loki casting much more powerful magic that he realised what was going on. As soon as Loki saw him come in he snapped back into his caucasian form and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“Loki, darlin’, please come out of there,” Bucky said, leaning against the bathroom door. “You know I’ve seen you in that form before, right? And I’ve seen Walker as a Jotun loads.”

Loki opened the door and glared at him, his head lowered and his eyebrows casting a shadow over his eyes. 

Bucky smiled brightly. “Great, thanks - I really need the bathroom, do you mind?”

The next time Loki sat on the bed next to Barnes, he flickered his gaze up to Bucky, his fists clenching in his lap. 

“Go on,” Bucky said gently. 

Slowly, Loki’s white skin faded under blue swirls. He ducked his face, long eyelashes hiding the crimson eyes. He dug his fingernails into his palms, tension crackling in the air. 

Bucky walked around to his side of the bed, leaned over and kissed his cheek, the cold skin dry against his. He wrapped his warm arm down over Loki’s chest and pulled him back towards him. Loki gave a slight gasp, then slowly, tentatively, one hand came up to cover Bucky’s arm. 

They stayed like that for a long moment. Then Loki leaned forward again, tugging out of Bucky’s grip, and without a word, started casting his magic.

***

Barnes woke up three days after Loki had finished his last spell, nine days after Tony had knocked on the door and handed them an IV and muttered something about dehydration and malnutrition. Bucky wanted to hug Tony, but Tony was still skittish. He didn’t blame him at all.

Bucky could tell that Barnes was awake before he opened his eyes. He didn’t think anyone else would have been able to tell the difference - well, maybe Natasha and Loki. Barnes’ eyes were moving ever so slightly under the lids, flickering towards the slightest noise, cataloguing the sensations he could pick up without giving away his state just yet. 

Eventually he opened his eyes and stared right at Bucky, who sat by his bed with his legs up. Bucky was reminded of another torture victim who’d woken up to find Bucky in pretty much the exact same position in another universe.

“Hey there,” said Bucky cheerfully. “Yes, I am you, from a different universe.”

Barnes just stared at him.

“Would you like some food? Drink? Or explanations?”

Barnes tested his muscles before sitting up, glancing around the room. “Did you say… you are me?”

“Explanations, then,” Bucky said, and sat up properly. “Hey, Loki, get in here! Barnes is awake.”

Loki peered around the corner, then walked in warily. Bucky was reminded of stray cats. “This is Loki,” he said, tugging him down to sit on the edge of the bed by Barnes’ feet. “He’s the one who’s been working to remove those kill switches in your head.”

Barnes didn’t say anything, but looked at Loki through the wild curtain of hair. Bucky brushed his own hair back before he could recognise the impulse, and quirked a smile at himself. “So, like I said, I’m you from another universe,” he continued. “Back in my universe, a different Loki and a different Steve and a bunch of other people got me out of Hydra, fixed my brain up a little. So I wanted to pay it forward when I got the chance. Any questions?”

Barnes was quiet for a moment, eyes flickering from one to the other. “What now?” he asked, his voice rough with disuse.

“You recover,” said Loki, sitting with his back perfectly straight, a prince’s posture. “There are no expectations of you, only that you do not hurt anyone except in self-defence.” He glanced at Bucky, a flicker of uncertainty, a need for reassurance. Bucky smiled and nodded.

“So… that’s it? You don’t want me for anything?”

“No,” said Bucky. “You’re free to leave if you want, but I’d recommend you stay here for now. Just until you’ve got your bearings. I mean, your memory’s not back yet, you don’t know what year it is, you got no way of getting food or shelter. All that’s here already.”

Loki turned to face Barnes more fully. “It may feel like this is too good to be true,” he said softly. “It’s hard to believe that you’re free, we both know that. We will understand if you cannot stay.”

Barnes stared at him a moment, barely blinking. Then he nodded once, sharply. “I’ll stay.”


	5. Soldier

The soldier sat and watched the open door. He was alone in the room. There was nothing between him and the door to the rest of the building. He wondered how far he could get before he was dragged back, how far he could push the patience of these people. When the other shoe would drop.

He stood up without even a creak of the leather sofa and walked towards the bookshelf by the door. He ran his fingers across the books. There was nobody in the corridor beyond the door. Loki was in the other bedroom. He had seen Bucky there before, lying on Loki’s lap, reaching up with the hand that was like the soldier’s to stroke Loki’s face. How could Loki trust him? He could crush his face with that hand. 

Bucky had kissed Loki before he left, half an hour ago. Loki had watched him until he left. The look on his face had made something in the soldier’s chest ache. 

But now Loki was back in his room, a large book on his lap, and the soldier had one foot out of the door. Nothing happened. He stepped out completely. He walked down the corridor, his eyes firmly forward, acting as though he had every right to be there. 

There was an elevator, and nearby, a door to a set of stairs. Heart pounding, he took the stairs, feet tapping out a frantic rhythm as he descended floor after floor - was this a nightmare? How many floors could possibly be in one building? He felt sick thinking about it. If he was in a nightmare, he was doomed at some point to wake up, and be back…

No! Ground floor. The soldier pushed it open, his heart now almost in his throat. He could see the street outside, through the lobby, he could run now, he could --

“Sergeant Barnes,” said a soft voice, and the soldier froze. That was it. He was going to be taken back, they were going to… going to freeze him? He thought? Were these memories? The cold, the pain…

“If you would like to leave the building, may I suggest you take someone with you?” the soft voice continued.

The soldier took the risk of glancing around. There was nobody around, nobody looking at him. No guns, no shock collars. “Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is JARVIS. I’m an artificial intelligence, I don’t have a physical form. I exist anywhere Mr Stark programmes me.”

The soldier frowned. Stark, the name sounded familiar. He shook his head. “Are you going to stop me from leaving?”

“No, sir,” said JARVIS. “Mr Stark would like you to know that you’re free to leave at any time, but everyone is concerned for your wellbeing. If you like, I can call Mr Loki, or the other Mr Barnes to accompany you?”

The soldier shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the sunlit pavement outside. 

“Very well, sir,” said JARVIS. “Please remember that if you leave, you’ll still be welcome back whenever you like.”

The soldier swallowed. He clenched and unclenched his fists, waiting for the trap, waiting for the trigger. Then he ran.

He ran out the glass doors, into blinding New York summer sunlight, racing through the streets, down alleyways, up fire escapes and onto rooftops, across the concrete and jumping over six foot gaps to the next ledge, swinging from his metal arm, his heart pounding, every moment waiting for bullets to lodge in his spine, for a shouted command that would make him lose his mind and hurt people he didn’t want to hurt, or fall to the ground, break himself, only to be repaired against his will, stitched back together, a tool trapped forever at their mercy. His breath came faster and faster as he ran, as the sun moved in the sky, and he found himself gasping, strange, animal noises whimpering from his mouth as the terror ramped up and up with every step.

At last he stopped, leaned against a corner, sank to a crouch and curled into a ball, despairing and at the same time fighting the tiniest tendril of hope that had started to snake up his throat.

Could it be? Could he be free? Was it even possible? Was freedom not a lie?

He sat there, arms over his head, breath heaving from his lungs, sweat dripping slowly down his back. At last he looked up, stared up at the sky as it darkened to night.

He could carry on running. He could find food, he knew he could survive. Loki had told him the words were gone from his mind - he would be able to run even when the commands were called out to him. He would be able to fight. He could be free.

Instead he stood and climbed down the building he was on, hand over hand on the old ledges and bricks and balconies. He landed on the pavement in a crouch, then tucked his hands into his pockets and looked up at the skyline where a tall, thin spire of a building rose above the rest. He started to walk back towards Stark Tower.


	6. Loki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I've just realised that this entire fic is characterised by people staring out of the window at dusk...
> 
> Oh well, it's an aesthetic I like haha!

Loki didn’t notice Barnes had gone until the sun was low in the sky, orange light flooding like a living being across the skyscrapers below. “Barnes?” he called, walking through the rooms. “Hello?”

“The Mr Barnes from this universe has left the tower,” JARVIS said. 

Loki frowned. “What time was this?”

“At four twenty-three this afternoon,” JARVIS replied.

Loki opened his mouth to ask why JARVIS hadn’t told them _when_ Barnes had left, then closed it again. They had made it very clear that Barnes wasn’t a prisoner. That meant at any time, by anyone. Loki would not join the long list of people who had taken Barnes’ autonomy away. “Thank you, JARVIS,” he said at last.

He stood at the vast, plate glass window for a long time, wondering if he would ever see Barnes again. He was different from Bucky, even in the short time Loki had known him he could see that. He was more vulnerable - though they looked almost exactly the same, Loki could not look upon Barnes and feel the same kind of heart-pounding attraction, the desperation to be in his arms.

Instead what he was starting to feel for Barnes was quieter, protective. A desire to care for him. Loki frowned at himself in his reflection. Sentiment. Perhaps it was best that Barnes had left, for Loki was no person to be attempting such comfort. Barnes wouldn’t even want such a thing. And he wasn’t even sure what Bucky would feel about him caring for Barnes in any way.

There was the slightest glint of metal in his peripheral vision, and without changing his expression, Loki replaced himself with an illusory double, and stepped backwards, invisible. He turned, knives in hand - and there was Barnes, his head hanging low, staring up through his long hair at Loki’s illusion’s back.

Loki sighed and dispelled his illusion, making Barnes jump. “Peace, Barnes,” he said, holding his hands up as Barnes materialised his own knife. “You should know sooner rather than later that you’re not the only one who dislikes people sneaking up on him.”

Barnes frowned and tucked his knife away. “How’d you do that?” he asked, his voice rough and deep. Clipped, as well, as if he was expecting to be punished for using it.

“Magic,” said Loki simply. “I’m not human.”

Barnes regarded him steadily, his mind ticking away behind the mask. “Were you blue? Or was that a dream?”

Loki winced, but then straightened his back and shifted into his Jotun form, his chin high and defiant. “My birth form,” he said, spreading his arms. “Magic is… easier like this.”

Barnes nodded. “Why don’t you stay like that all the time? I mean…” He glanced out at New York. “When you won’t get mobbed by the crowds, that is.”

Loki looked down at his own hands, black fingernails and strange white markings. “I… prefer to hide,” he said at last.

Barnes nodded again, then walked close to the great window. Pressed his hand against it and stared out at the shadows lengthening over New York. Loki watched his hand clench and unclench, the slightest tremble in his muscles. 

“I ran,” Barnes said. He turned to face Loki, his back straight, his jaw clenched. “Earlier. I ran to… I think, Brooklyn.”

Loki inclined his head. “Do you expect me to punish you?”

Barnes took a breath. Then another. “I don’t know,” he said.

Loki walked to join him, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. “Freedom is hard to believe in,” he said. “You will spend a long time wondering if this is a dream, or a trick, if you will open your eyes and believe you are _back there_.” He turned to hold his gaze. “Bucky and I will be here for you as you process that, if you would have us.”

Barnes stared at him, speechless, the hope a fragile, frightened thing in his eyes. 

“You are also welcome to leave any time you like,” Loki promised. “We know you’re perfectly capable of looking after yourself. But it doesn’t have to be just about survival.”

Barnes regarded him for a long moment, then turned back to stare out at the city once more. Loki smiled, and stood beside him.


	7. Bucky

Barnes was starting to open up to some of the other Avengers as well, particularly Steve, who spent as much time as he could with his old friend. Tony, too, was slowly starting to open up to all of them. He offered to have a look at Barnes’ arm one day, barely looking him in the eye. Bucky had gone with them, but he should have suggested someone else go instead - the lab was eerily quiet. Even so, Tony was willing to be in the same room as them.

Bucky didn’t notice the dynamic between Barnes and Loki at first. Or, well - perhaps he noticed how Barnes watched Loki, hooded eyes following him wherever he went. But that was only to be expected, because Bucky stared at Loki too, his eyes followed him around the room, appreciative of his every movement. 

Bucky first noticed Loki’s behaviour when Steve dragged them out to Coney Island the first time. “C’mon, Buck used to love Coney Island.” He slung his arm around Barnes, and immediately Loki went tense. Not out of fear, or anything like it - instead he was glaring so hard at Steve’s arm, Bucky was amazed it didn’t burst into green flames.

The whole team ended up accompanying them. Loki and Bucky stayed close to Barnes - though Bucky had long got used to the noise and the crowds, he knew the first fair would be hard on Barnes, and he wanted it to be a memorable experience for all the right reasons. He and Loki were on guard, flanking him and ready with a hand to his elbow or on his shoulder as soon as they noticed the tell-tale tension lifting his spine into a hunch, his eyes darting around at every perceived threat.

By the end of the evening, Barnes had retreated back into a stoic shell, and even Steve had to admit that this wasn’t good for him. They were all quiet on the journey back, but Bucky noticed how close Barnes stood to Loki, their arms only just brushing, but seeming to gather strength from his proximity. Bucky turned and stared out of the window at the passing subway, considering. 

They started calling him James. Or Loki did - he suggested, quietly, that he might prefer something completely separate from Bucky. Bucky nodded, crinkling his nose. He’d never answered to James, not the way he answered to Bucky or Barnes. And James himself, well, he didn’t seem to care what people called him. He still didn’t talk much.

Or at least Bucky thought he didn’t talk much. Then he found him sitting across from Loki, hands clasped between his knees, talking soft and low. Loki sat cross-legged on the sofa, listening closely in that way he had, that told you every word was being stored up in his mind, each one like gold or precious gems to him. Loki’s head turned the moment Bucky stepped into the room, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips, and Bucky grinned back at him. “Hey.”

“Good morning,” Loki said, standing and embracing him. 

Bucky smiled into the crook of his neck. “What’re you guys talking about?”

“A dream James had. He was trying to work out if it was a dream or a memory.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure I’m uniquely placed to help with that,” Bucky grinned, but James had retreated, hiding away in his room. Bucky crinkled his nose. “Sorry.”

“It’s a long process, we both know that,” Loki said, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

“Good thing we’ve got long lives,” Bucky shrugged.

Loki smiled and kissed him.

They weren’t alone, Bucky knew that. There were plenty of others who’d been tortured in this building - Tony, Natasha, Clint… but somehow it felt like he, James and Loki walked somewhere slightly off-step from the rest. He didn’t know if it was because the experience was so recent for James and Loki, and because he was from an entirely different universe, but… well, they should probably think about moving out of the tower soon. Perhaps move away from New York entirely. Not so much for him, he’d had his healing, tramping around South America with Steve - his Steve, not this one. But Loki and James would benefit from the space he’d once had.

He tried to explain it to Steve one night. Made an attempt at the conversation he’d had with _his_ Steve, back in his universe, about how he was no longer the Bucky that had grown up in Brooklyn with him. 

Steve stared into his drink. “Feels like I only just got my best friend back, and he’s being taken away from me again,” he said quietly.

“He’s not,” Bucky said, squeezing his shoulder. “We’re not taking him away, I swear, OK? He just needs some time to recover, and trust me, he needs to do that away from any pressure to remember the person he once was. I wanted to remember so bad, just to make him - my Steve - happy.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, and Bucky felt horribly guilty. “It’s not forever, man,” he said. “You think he’ll be able to stay away from you after he remembers everything you were to each other?”

“You seem to be dealing just fine,” he said, nudging him.

“My Steve… well, I know it was different for us." He hesitated and glanced at Steve again. "You know we were..."

Steve frowned in confusion. "What?" he asked, when Bucky trailed off.

Bucky sighed. "We were together." He paused. Steve just looked at him, his head on one side. "You know... like... _together_ together?"

Steve looked blank a moment longer. Then "Oh... _oh!_" He turned bright red and looked back into his beer. "I... no, I didn't..." He laughed. "I did not know that."

Bucky bit his lip. "That gonna be a problem?"

"What? Oh, God, no. Of course not! Bucky... my Bucky... James I guess... I knew he was... you know..."

Bucky raised an eyebrow and tried to suppress a smirk. "Bi? Gay? Queer?"

Steve rolled his eyes again and blushed even harder. "I knew he liked guys as well as girls, OK? I just... it was never like that for me - us." He glanced up at Bucky. "I mean! Like, no disrespect or anything, I just... can't picture it with a man."

Bucky covered his mouth to hide the amusement. "Why would I find that disrespectful?"

"I don't know, I just... I mean..." He narrowed his eyes at Bucky. "Oh. You're winding me up." He shook his head. "Jackass."

Bucky cackled and Steve shoved him on the shoulder. They sat side by side, the tension and amusement fading back into Steve's returning melancholy. Bucky cleared his throat. "So, uh... am I OK to tell you this stuff?"

"Hmm? Oh - what, about you and other-Steve? Yeah, I guess." He laughed. "I'll be honest, he just... I have to picture him as someone totally different in my head, cos me and Buck..." He shook his head and laughed. "That's crazy."

"Well, you are different people. And... I guess you could say James is a different person too, to the man he was back then. He'll get his memories back, hopefully, but he'll never be the same. And neither will you, OK? Like, you're not the same guy you were back in Brooklyn, are you? Not after the things you've seen. Not now you know what you know."

"I guess," Steve shrugged. 

"My Steve and I, we had to learn that. We were together again for a couple years after I came back. But it was too different. He still saw me as the asshole he grew up with, and I wasn’t him any more. We’ll still always love each other, I think, just…” he shrugged. “Not that same way. We haven’t been together for ages.”

“And… you and Loki?”

Bucky smirked. “What about me and Loki?”

“He’s worth leaving your whole universe for?”

“I didn’t leave _for_ him, Steve. I left to get James out of Hydra. I hoped things would work out with Loki, sure, and they did.” His grin softened and he looked into his own cup. “Better than I ever thought possible, honestly.”

Steve slapped him on the back. “I’m happy for you, Jerk.”

Bucky looked at him, head on one side. “You know, it’s a new world out there. Seems to me like you could do a bit of exploring, travel around America without the performing monkey show.”

Steve shook his head, smiling. “Awww, I don’t know, Buck.”

“No, listen. You’ve been living your life one crisis to the next. And we don’t know when the next one will come, sure - but right now there isn’t one. You can stop and breathe, and go out and find out a bit more about yourself, and this new world, and you can do that knowing that the world you grew up in _hasn’t_ disappeared completely. Your Bucky - James? He’s alive, and he’s healing, and he’s being cared for. And we’ll bring him back one day, and sure, maybe by then you’ll have realised you’ve got different places to go, but even so, you’ll still be there for each other. We all will. This is temporary, and we need it, all of us. You too.”

Steve sighed and elbowed Bucky in the ribs. “When did you get so damn sensible?”

“Uh, excuse me?” he yelped. “Who’s always been the one pulling your ass out of fights you couldn’t possibly win?”

Steve grinned reluctantly, then turned and pulled Bucky into a tight hug. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said.

“How can I?” Bucky grinned. “I’m leaving all the stupid here with you.”

Steve rolled his eyes and stepped back. “Take care of yourself, Buck.”

“You too - and relax a bit! Have fun. I know you’ve never really learned the meaning of the word, but you’re healthy and not at war for once. Make the most of it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah… you might be right.”

“Obviously,” he said, rolling his eyes. “God, about time you figured it out!”


	8. James

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James finds his voice, and his place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... this is it! The final, melancholy, bittersweet chapter of this strange and quiet little fic! I hope you enjoy it, thank you all so much for reading! I'm so happy to finally have got this scene into something solid! The final image of this chapter was the one that I'd had in my head since I stopped writing Broken Wheels and I'm happy to leave the boys here comforting each other and being at peace!
> 
> (Also anything that pushes Tony and Steve back into being as close as they are in the comics, and making Civil War impossible, is my absolute pleasure to do!)

James got the chance to truly speak to Tony Stark before they left the tower, not just work in silence. It helped that Steve came with him, those big, hopeful eyes casting between James and Stark, making them sigh and want to please him. 

“I’m sorry,” said James, his voice still barely above a growl. He couldn’t seem to make it sound softer. “They tell me…” he glanced up at Stark, whose eyes were glassy, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “I can’t remember any of it, but I’m so sorry.”

Stark seemed to be holding his breath for a moment. When he released it, it was shaking and he cursed, and dashed tears away from his eyes. “Tony, oh, God, I’m sorry,” Steve said softly, touching his shoulder hesitantly.

Stark chuckled, his shoulders tense up near his ears. “What are you apologising for, Spangles?”

“I don’t…” Steve shrugged and huffed a laugh. “I’m not apologising, I’m just sad for you.”

“I blamed my dad,” he said. He looked up at both of them, his chin jutting out like he was squaring up for a fight. “I hated him.”

Steve’s eyes softened further, his eyebrows crinkling. “D’you wanna talk about it?”

Stark laughed, high pitched and hysterical. “Hell, no! I want to get drunk out of my mind, that’s what I wanna do.”

“Tony…”

“It’s the time honoured Stark coping mechanism,” he said, marching over to the bar and concentrating on the scotch harder than James thought he needed to. “I’ll be fine, you kids go have fun.”

Steve glanced at James, then back at Stark, and nodded to himself, just slightly. He walked over to the bar and sat behind it, facing Stark. “D’you mind if I join you?”

Stark looked at him, a flash of sudden vulnerability naked in his eyes. “You don’t have to. I’m really fine, Steve.”

Steve smiled and tapped two fingers on the counter. “Order up, barkeep,” he said.

Stark rolled his eyes. “Oh my God, _order up?_ This isn’t a diner… have you even been in a bar before? In your life? Am I about to take Captain America’s alcohol virginity here?”

Steve laughed, his eyes crinkling up. Stark shook his head and poured him a whiskey. “What about you, C-3P0? You joining us?”

James hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah… OK. If you don’t mind?”

Super soldiers couldn’t get drunk. Tony could, and it seemed even Steve understood that he needed to. They migrated to the floor overlooking the city as the lights speckled up through the night sky, and let Tony talk, his voice slurring more and more. Then they let him cry, tears soaking through Steve’s shirt as he wept, surprisingly silently, for the mother James had taken away.

He felt... too human that night as he walked back through the corridors, leaving Steve to stay staring out over New York with Tony asleep on his shoulder. He could feel his mind and heart sliding down the mud-slicked slope into horror and self-loathing, and he wished, in one insane moment, for the blank emptiness of the Soldier. Anything to believe he hadn’t left a history of blood behind him.

Loki was reading on the couch when he got back. James didn’t know if Loki could read the mood in the air, if James was projecting the dark spikes of depression the way he felt he should be, or if Loki was just good at reading faces, but he stood immediately, putting his book aside. “What happened?” he asked, eyes narrowing. 

“What? Are you going to fight for my honour?”

“James, what _happened?”_

“Because I don’t have any. How could I? How many people have I taken from their families? How many kids have I left orphaned?”

Loki sighed, his anger banked and replaced by a hollow sadness. “There is red in my ledger,” he said softly, as if he were quoting. “Come on, sit with me.”

James shook his head. “Why are you guys looking after me? Why are they even letting me stay here? God, if I was them I’d have thrown me out long ago. Or put me down like a vicious dog, or something.”

“Sit, James, please.”

“Seriously. What do you even get out of it? Why does anyone care? Have they forgotten what I’ve done?”

“You?” Loki snapped suddenly, his green eyes fierce. His fingers clenched into fists. “You have done nothing, not as the Soldier. That was not you, it was the decisions and the orders of monsters, and you were but a tool for them.” He laughed mirthlessly and turned away. “I, on the other hand… Have I ever told you how I came to be on Earth?”

James shook his head, his spiralling halted by a dull curiosity. He followed Loki to the window, watched his beautiful, angular face in the reflection. Loki closed his eyes. “If I tell you, you may not care to be around me any more,” he said. 

James shrugged. “I doubt that,” he said softly.

Loki turned to look at him. James held his gaze. “Tell me,” James said. “You already know everyone I’ve ever hurt.”

Loki nodded and turned back to the window, and began to speak.

James listened patiently, noticed when Loki was waiting for him to leave and hate him. He had done terrible things, only some of them under the control of a madman, and James thought, perhaps, if he’d been the man they all told him he used to be, he could have turned away in horror and left him standing there alone.

Instead he moved closer, the fingers of his metal hand running down the back of Loki’s arm, watching, fascinated, as goosebumps raised along the skin. Loki shivered and turned to face him.

“I’m still here, Loki,” James said softly.

“So you are,” Loki said. “A fool in every universe, it would seem.”

The corner of James’ lip twitched up, but he didn’t have the energy to do any more than that. He sighed and leaned into Loki, pressing his forehead against Loki’s shoulder. He felt him hesitate, then put one hand softly onto his back, the fingers of the other carding through his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of comfort. He could have slept there, like that, he thought.

“Come and sit with me,” Loki said once more. Together they moved towards the couch. Loki turned so that his back was pressed against the arm of the couch, his legs bent up on the seat, and pulled James down to lie cradled against Loki’s chest, curled between his knees. He sighed, the tension leaving him completely as Loki stroked long fingers over and over his head, humming something quiet and beautiful, the sound vibrating gently through the ribs under James’ ear.

He had never felt safer than he did then. Perhaps that was a lie. Perhaps he’d had a loving family, an affectionate mother or sibling who had the time to hold him against their chest and sing to him as he rested, their patience endless, no need to hurry him along. But he had no memories to speak of, not in his mind. There were many in his muscles, of violence and skilled viciousness, but nothing clear before he woke in this tower with Bucky and Loki.

He wasn’t sure which came first, if he felt Loki’s sudden tension, the stilling of his hand in his hair, or if he heard Bucky open the door. It took him a moment to realise what Bucky would see - his lover and his doppelganger curled up on the couch - and why that might upset him.

Instead he felt another hand in his hair, brushing it away from his face, and heard Bucky kiss Loki. Loki sighed and leaned against him, and Bucky’s hand moved to stroke through Loki’s hair instead, as Loki continued to stroke through James’. James smiled softly, and relaxed against Loki’s chest once more. 

The three of them, they were broken pieces, shattered and tossed together on the same floor, their jagged edges lining up in strange new ways.


End file.
